


A Fear

by joypendants



Series: A Romantic Tragedy in Snapshots [2]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Half-Wendigo Josh Washington, M/M, Post-Game(s), t for language to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joypendants/pseuds/joypendants
Summary: The more time passes, the more Chris realizes that maybe sometimes he can't reach Josh. Slowly, he comes to realize that they are worlds apart, and that maybe this is something he can't fix.
Relationships: Chris Hartley/Josh Washington
Series: A Romantic Tragedy in Snapshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742815
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	A Fear

**Author's Note:**

> This is part two in the series of four. It's un-beta'd, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors! Part three will be coming soon to a website near you.

One might call Chris stupid for continuing to return to the mountain. One might also find that Chris does not give a fuck about what they think. 

While the journey to the mountain is honestly a bit longer than one might find to be ideal (especially when one is unable to drive), Chris is willing to make it at  _ least _ once every two weeks or so, classes and work allowing. It has become part of his routine: he will take the bus as far as he can to get to the lodge, and then will take a taxi the rest of the way. (He’s starting to wonder if the taxi drivers know him now; his social anxiety says yes, and that they are judging him. He tries not to think about it too much.)

This time, when Chris arrives, stepping out of the relative warmth of the cable car, a bright morning has given way to an overcast afternoon. The sun still struggles to make its way through a light covering of clouds, painting the cold ground below a pale golden. There is something sad and beautiful about it, in the way that there is something melancholy about a springtime evening when night falls too quickly. 

The wind whispers by and Chris shivers, shoulders hunching forward as he begins his trek once more towards the secluded cabin. The seasons have begun to give way to something almost springlike, but there is still a certain bite to the air: the wind still has teeth, digging its way through his jacket and settling comfortably into his bones. Drawing a bearth, resenting how the exhale causes his glasses to fog, Chris moves down the path, gravel crunching beneath his shoes. 

“Josh?” It’s a habit, now, calling out for his best friend –– the forest still seems to swallow his voice, but somehow, Josh always hears him. Somehow, Josh always finds him. There is some comfort, some familiarity, in that, despite the reality of the situation: Josh has always been there. ( _ Just a phonecall away,  _ Josh had once said, and while that is no longer true, this is close enough, right? In a warped way, it’s close enough.) 

Coming to a stop, Chris glances around, looking for the shifting of the branches, listening for any sign of movement. Over time, he has become more attuned to it, more attuned to the way that Josh now moves so quietly now, almost a phantom amongst the trees. There’s something unnerving about it, of course, something just on the wrong side of scary, but it’s easy enough to ignore. It’s still  _ Josh,  _ after all, despite what the primal part of his brain whispers to him. This time, however, there is nothing: there is no movement, no shifting of the trees.

Chris sighs, and begins to walk again, calling out as he does so. “Josh?” His voice seems too quiet, lost amongst the trees, nature swallowing it up. He feels so...small, up in the mountains like this, walking amongst trees that have been there for decades. They have seen things, outlived so many things, and they will almost certainly outlive him. 

_ Not the time for existentialism, Chris,  _ he chides himself, hands shoved into his pockets as he continues to walk, glancing off the side of that path every so often, waiting for Josh to emerge as he always does. 

Minutes pass, and there is nothing other than the occasional branch swaying as Chris scares away a bird or a squirrel.

“Maybe he’s asleep,” Chris mumbles to himself, ignoring the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. “Yeah–– Yeah, I’ll check that out. Okay, here we go. We’re going to the cabin, and it’s gonna be fine.” Narrating his own movements feels so  _ stupid _ to him, but there is something about the sound of a human voice, even if it is his own, that is comforting. 

As Chris draws closer to the cabin, the feeling of  _ wrongness _ only seems to grow. The air feels heavy, and there is the intense sensation that he shouldn’t be here, that he should go, that he should turn around and walk back to the cable car and get  _ out.  _ There is a pit of dread in his stomach at the silence of the mountain, but Chris shakes it off.  _ Paranoia,  _ he tells himself,  _ Paranoia because I know, I know what’s out there.  _ He is safe, though, safe as one can be, anyway –– Josh told him as much.

_ It’s my territory,  _ Josh had told him matter-of-factly.  _ They know that. This is mine, and  _ none _ of ‘em are gonna come here anymore.  _ Chris had been almost morbidly curious as to what had happened to make it that way, but he hadn’t dared to ask. Part of him doesn’t  _ want _ to know. 

Drawing a deep breath, Chris feels a wave of relief wash over him as he sees the cabin growing closer. There is something about it that feels safer than the surrounding trees. That’s stupid, of course: there is nothing that has seemed out of place in the slightest, other than the unnatural quiet, but he was used to that, by now, as it usually meant that Josh was close.  _ So he’s gotta be in the cabin, then,  _ Chris concludes, and this theory is only strengthened as he sees the cabin door hanging ajar. 

Shaking his head, Chris’ pace quickens as he gets closer, his anxieties assuaged. He draws closer, opens his mouth to call out again, and––

An ungodly screech, unnatural, bloodcurdlingly familiar (oh, God,  _ it’s just like the dreams, I’ve heard it in my dreams, in my nightmares, dark night, trees towering, we’re trapped with them, the wind screams outside, they’re ungodly fast, oh, God, _ ) splits the air, the sound raw and primal and  _ terrifying.  _ Chris finds himself frozen in place for a moment, eyes widening as his heart begins to pound, breaths coming faster as adrenaline courses its way through him.  _ Is it Josh? It can’t be Josh, right, he was himself last time I was here, but what else could it be? Did something happen, did another–– another–– thing hurt him, did he lose his territory, oh, God, what’s going on, I need to  _ get out  _ of here–– _

Muscles tense, and Chris finds himself unconsciously taking a step backwards. He immediately curses himself,  _ they can only see you if you move, idiot, why did you do that, you fucking moron!?,  _ and finds himself standing stock still, feeling more like prey than he ever wanted to in his life. Muscles tremble, and he is a rabbit, caught in a predator’s gaze.

The door to the cabin is thrown open, and Chris fights to stop himself from flinching, and somehow manages to fail spectacularly.  _ Fuck, fuck, FUCK––  _ The figure in the doorway rounds on him, all bared teeth and blood-covered skin, posture animalistic and expression monstrous. He is all contorted mouth, jagged teeth bared, eyes no longer human, blood dripping from his lips, staining unnaturally pale skin a stark red. It is Josh, but it is not; intead, it is a pale mockery, a sickly reflection, of someone that Chris knows better than he knows himself. 

There is a low clicking noise, and Josh moves: his posture sinks lower, centre of gravity shifting as he cocks his head to the side, the gesture unnaturally fast as Josh seems to listen. His gaze is fixated in Chris’ direction, the clicking sound coming again. A terrified animal, prey too close to predator, Chris feels himself beginning to tremble, another half-step taken back, a hand raising, as the primal part of his brain takes over.  _ Get out, get out, get AWAY, we need to get away, he’s going to––  _

Chris is unable to finish the thought before Josh –– the creature –– is upon him, bared teeth snapping as Chris finds himself suddenly falling, back colliding with the cold earth as his breath leaves him in a  _ whoosh.  _ Glasses knocked askew, dazed from his head hitting the earth, Chris stares up at the face of his best friend, and finds only a monster. Chris can feel hot breath against his face, smelling of fresh blood, and he struggles to get air into his lungs. “Josh,  _ Josh,  _ it’s me––” The words come out breathless, fear tangible as he feels the pressure of Josh looming over him, a weight on his legs that keeps Chris from moving. Jagged, bloodstained teeth obscure a good portion of his vision, he feels fingers –– claws –– digging into his arm, and Chris is aware that he is shaking uncontrollably, cold dread in the pit of his stomach.  _ Am I going to die like this? At the hands of my best friend? _

For a second, neither of them move, a cold steel of tension between them that is broken by Josh’s voice. “Oh... Oh, shit,  _ shit,  _ I––” Josh blinks once, twice, and there is a shift in his expression as he stares down at Chris below him, vision seeming to slowly clear. “Oh my God, Chris, I’m––” Josh jerks backwards, scrambling to his feet while Chris stares up at him, propped up on his elbows. “I was, shit, I was hunting, I didn’t…”

Chris slowly gets to his feet, still holding up his hands in a display of surrender for a moment. He feels so small, so vulnerable, and words stick in his throat as he stares at Josh with a wide-eyed expression of fear. He wants to say something, anything, to Josh, but nothing comes out. Josh stands a few feet away from him, back to himself, but Chris cannot ignore the way that blood covers his best friend. Of course he knew that Josh had to hunt in order to live, of course he knew that Josh is _ different _ now, but there is something so,  _ so _ jarring about being faced with this reality. 

_ I’m scared of him,  _ Chris realizes, and it is a slap in the face.  _ I didn’t know him when he was...like that.  _ Josh has been a constant, a constant since they were kids, but now…  _ I think I might be losing him.  _

The few feet between them feels like an ocean, and for the first time, Chris does not know how to reach Josh. 

“Chris,” Josh begins, his voice raw, all nerve-endings and hurt, “I swear, I didn’t… I didn’t know–– I didn’t know it was you, I didn’t know, I’m––” He breaks off, arms folding over his chest, hiding bloodstained claws. There is silence between them, a silence that stretches, broken only by the whispering of the wind. Finally, Josh speaks again, voice low. “You… You should leave, you shouldn’t –– be here.”

Still shaking, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Chris nods mutely. His chest feels tight, like he can’t get enough air, and he opens his mouth to speak, only to find the words unable to be formed. He wants to say  _ It’s alright, Josh,  _ but he can’t. He wants to reassure Josh, but the words sound hollow, even to him. 

As he turns away, turns his back on his best friend, begins the lonely walk back to the cable car, Chris realizes they are worlds apart.


End file.
